Bad Girl
by Rothelena
Summary: Sometimes, even agent Lisbon feels small and unimportant and oh so sad. Unfortunately, Patrick Jane is bad at giving solace- but maybe he'll make an exception this time. Very PWP, adult situations, M,M,M.


_Could be a tag for ep.3.19 "Every Rose has its thorn" (though in that case, I completely disregarded the episode's last scene where Lisbon watches Jane's dating video) or some kind of foreboding for the season four episode where Erica Flynn is said to appear again- whatever. I'm just fooling around here._

_Yes- it's smutty, M, PWP, and doesn't make much sense. I was just looking for a lame excuse to get them into making out again, and this is what came up._

_OOC for Lisbon especially, but hey- we all have our weak moments, haven't we?_

_Disclaimer: Uhm…it's not mine! I'm just playing!_

**Bad Girl**

Teresa Lisbon forced herself to close the door of her office drawer carefully. Although she wanted to slam it shut. Hell- she wanted to slam it and kick it afterwards. Kick it good.

She turned around and watched the deserted bullpen through the window pane. Jane lay on his couch, one knee lifted against the backrest, arms stretched out over his head. What was he thinking right now?

She knew that Erica Flynn hat managed to get under his skin. Of course he didn't love her- she was a cold-blooded murderess, and Jane was …good. He wasn't immoral, and he abhorred the killers he caught. But he had always been attracted to the bad girls.

Which wasn't that terrible, hey. Except for the fact that she wasn't a bad girl.

Teresa Lisbon was scrupulous. Reliable. Always was the last to leave the office. Always kept to procedure. Always followed the rules. Lived for her work. Exactly the kind of girl a man like Jane would dream about while he was resting on his couch, huh?

Damn, what was she thinking? She should just stop that right now. She was a logical girl, always had been. Cool. Factual. So why were there angry tears in her eyes whenever nobody looked her way?

Why couldn't SHE get under his skin? Why couldn't SHE make him lose his iron control?

He always seemed to be extra cool when he dealt with her. Extra smug. Extra superior. She shuddered.

Part of her hated him. Part of her wanted to rip his clothes off right now.

But instead she closed the drawer's door very slowly, hardly making a sound at all.

xxMentalistxx

Jane wore a secret smile on his face, eyes closed, completely relaxed.

If agent Lisbon's thoughts would get a little bit louder he'd have to block her out. Damn, she was so easy to read…but hey. Good people always were.

He had noticed her jealousy the whole day, and it had felt like balm on his soul.

True- Erica Flynn had gotten to him. She was as manipulative as they came, and he had to muster all his strength to keep her out of his mind. But he would never even think about getting involved with a cold, cunning murderess like her. Sure, he wasn't blind, she was attractive and knew how to play her cards, but he liked his women HOT-BLOODED.

Like the over-dynamic little firecracker storming through her office right behind him.

He knew that she tried to control herself, contain her feelings, stay composed. And damn- she failed miserably.

Teresa Lisbon was fierce, passionate, full of emotions. She didn't show them often. But he could feel them running beneath her surface like an electric current, and he was drawn to them. Was a sucker for luring them out of hiding. He loved to make her lose it.

A warm feeling spread around his lower body when he finally heard her slam the door of one of her drawers. He grinned.

Yeah, she was jealous. She thought he was dreaming about Erica Flynn. She had no idea.

He would have loved to give her a taste. Show her a glimpse of what he hid behind the amicable banter. But he was scared- he knew that despite the harmlessness she thought she exuded, she could very well make him lose his composure. Right now, he controlled their relationship. Knew how to play his sweet boss, how to get what he wanted. But he was everything but a fool. Nothing escaped him. And certainly not something as major and important as love.

He was vulnerable when he loved. Defenseless. Soft-hearted. Driven by the wish to protect. Nobody had really seen this side of him since his family had died. When he did something nice for members of his team or even Lisbon, he always tried to mask the deed as merely selfish. He wanted them to see him like this: self-centered, arrogant, aloof. He knew that the image cracked sometimes, but hey: they still didn't fully trust him, so obviously, he put on a good show, didn't he?

He knew exactly: the moment he would lower his shields against agent Lisbon, a feeling would surface he had no nerve dealing with at the moment. A feeling so deep and all-encompassing it scared him even now, when he allowed himself only a faint taste of its magnitude.

He shuddered. For a second he could feel her energy reaching out to him, felt the air crackling with it, prickling against his skin.

He should get the hell out of here. Retire to his lair in the attic and attempt a dreamless slumber. He was glad the summer was over, the chill helped him to focus, made him more watchful, more alert.

He stretched, yawned heartily and got up with an elegant, fluid motion, leaving the bullpen with long, measured strides. He was walking down the hallway when he passed by her office, and that was when he heard it.

A soft, stifled sob. Followed by impatient sniffling. She was crying.

He bit his lip while the sensation of utter agony ran through his chest. That was to be expected, he wasn't a robot. No matter how much he would have loved to be one. Instead he loved her. He sighed.

He should ignore it. Lisbon was strong, capable, cool. The tears would wash that out of her system, and hey, he wasn't about to start into a glorious happily-ever-after with the next female killer he found attractive. Far from it. So tomorrow, everything would be alright. He usually sucked at spending solace…he had problems to find a connection with people around him after the trauma he'd suffered. He was used to keeping the emotions at bay, and opening up to them hurt. So much that he couldn't focus on the one who roused those feelings in him- he was concentrated on himself in those moments, and no help at all.

He just stood there and listened, the sounds of her relentless sobbing washing over him. His arms itched to hold her. He analyzed the sensation calmly. He wasn't surprised by this. Foolish enough to fall in love, now he was in for the whole nine yards.

He took a tentative step towards the lift. She would get over it, no problem…

But he knew immediately that this wasn't going to work. She might get over it. He wouldn't. So he turned on his heel and walked back to the bullpen, entering her office without knocking.

She startled when she saw him. Her face was wet, her eyes huge. So beautiful, his Lisbon. Especially if she didn't play the restrained, hard-assed cop.

He sighed and walked over to her, stepping around her desk, crowding her slightly. He sat down on the tabletop, watching her closely. She reclined in her chair, trying to bring more distance between them. Not a chance.

He extended his hand and wiped at the tears on her cheeks, gently, her skin so warm against his. The sweet moisture was even hot. He couldn't resist and licked it from his fingers, sensing her deep shudder as if it were his own. It possibly was.

He looked at her. A little bit like a stern father who dealt with his unreasonable child in an utterly clement way despite his own frustration. Naughty agent Teresa Lisbon. Made it so hard for the nice Patrick Jane to hide from his own feelings. Bad, bad girl. A tiny smile curled his lips.

"You know, Lisbon," he said calmly, "despite you constantly stating otherwise, I'm not a complete idiot. I don't have the slightest romantic notions for cold-hearted killer-bitches- no matter how sexy they are. Erica Flynn is utterly manipulative and knows how to play men, so it's not a piece of cake dealing with her, but I don't wish to get any closer, believe me. I'm perfectly fine where I am."

"It's not that." she muttered, sniffling slightly.

He slid from the tabletop and squatted down in front of her, keeping her from averting her eyes.

"What is it then, Lisbon?" he whispered, knowing she could feel his breath against her skin, "for damn…I would love to help."

"I'm so dull and boring," she said, her voice as tiny as a small girl's, "who would want to get closer to me?"

He smiled.

"Yes," he said warmly, "dull and boring, my ass, Lisbon. And that's the reason why you're the only person in the world I want to do that with."

He leant over and pressed his lips to hers, swallowing her gasp into the hot confines of his mouth. His mind screamed at him, this was stupid, stupid, stupid, why hadn't he run while it was still time, why had he allowed her to get under his skin like that?

But deep down he knew that resistance was futile…she'd been under his skin for quite a while now, and he was sick of turning a blind eye on the fact.

He weaved his hands into her long hair, marveling at its downy softness, and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue slipped between her lips, they parted willingly for his intrusion. She kissed him back and suddenly he felt wildly, desperately happy, like he hadn't in a decade. He wanted more of this feeling and slanted his lips across hers, plundering her with his hungry tongue, learning the curves and crevices of her luscious mouth. He was moaning heavily. He was an utterly vocal man, always had been, and he wasn't ashamed of it.

He broke the kiss after minutes of hot exploration, gasping for air. He wanted to pull back right then, nod at her in a friendly, soothing way and retreat to the attic, barricading the door behind him. To do what definitely had to be done since he hated cold showers.

But then she touched him…pulled his shirt out of his waistband and pushed her hands beneath it, fondling his abdomen and his chest before she slid her fingers around his torso and caressed his back, and he knew he wouldn't leave here before he had finished this. Tonight she'd managed to catch him unguarded. He was a generous loser, though. She had defeated him, and it was her right to collect the price.

He delved in for another passionate kiss and started to unbutton her blouse, slowly, taking his time revealing her milky pale skin. Goose bumps started to spread when he slid his fingers across her throat, down her cleavage, dipping between her breasts. His lips followed, painting a moist trail until he shoved his tongue into the valley between her lush, creamy mounds, pushed up slightly by her bra. She bucked against him, and he suckled her nipples through the white silk covering them before he moved back up, rubbing his cheek against hers.

"Let me show you how very boring you are, Lisbon," he whispered into her ear, taking her hand and pushing it against the enormous bulge in his pants, rock-hard, throbbing, "I have a hard time getting erect these days- but funnily, I never have any problems when I'm close to you. Or fantasizing about you in the privacy of my attic."

Not that he allowed himself such fantasies on a regular basis- they took down his walls, and mostly he wanted those up. But tonight, he just wanted to feel the brunt of his desire, wanted to be suffocated by his need, his foolish love.

He covered her hand with his and rubbed, moaning when white-hot lust pierced his system. Her breath got frantic, he could feel the hot puffs running into his hair. So many sensations. It hurt, and it felt so good.

He started to unbutton his vest and shirt, working as fast as he could, whimpering when her tiny fingers continued the rubbing motions against his cock on their own. She squeezed slightly, and his whole body jerked. He ripped the last buttons off and shrugged the ruined shirt from his shoulders, his hands going to the fly of her pants, opening it with trembling fingers. She lifted her hips, allowing him to slide the offending garment down her shapely legs. He took her panties with it, he didn't feel especially patient tonight.

Damn, too many clothes…he pushed the blouse from her shoulders, ripped the bra off, growling with frustration. He opened his belt and simply pushed pants and boxers down before he adjusted the height of her chair and got up- he would have more momentum standing up.

For a moment, he just looked into her eyes, his erection throbbing so violently he could hardly think, the stiff rod already nudging her soft core emphatically.

Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and he swallowed when he saw the deep emotions on her features. He nodded slowly. No need to hide now.

"You're a bad, bad girl, Lisbon," he growled, "it isn't nice to make me lose it like this."

He pushed his hips forward and watched her head fall back, her eyes closing in bliss. The sensation of entering her was rough, she was as small inside as she was outside, and he was anything but small. His massive girth stretched her enormously, and he pushed her legs onto the armrests, spreading her wide for him. Her arms went around his neck, and he allowed her to pull him closer, all the while keeping his gaze lowered so he could watch her tiny body swallowing him. It looked almost surreal, and he still couldn't believe what he was doing here. His breath was rapid and shallow while he gave her inch for inch, he felt her core tensing all around him, it was absolutely mind-blowing.

"Teresa," he gasped, "if I hurt you…"

But she stilled him, putting her index finger against his lips. He took it into his mouth, sucking it thoroughly, shooting bouts of ecstasy directly into her groin while he pushed into her to the hilt, his taut balls hitting her soft buttocks. He felt like screaming, screaming on top of his lungs, but nothing came out besides a soft "Oh!". A tremor ran through his body from head to toe, she could watch its progress.

Damn, had it been that long? He felt like a virgin, as if he had never, ever done this before. Her tight sheath clutched his length, his cock feel strange, on fire. As if electric shocks were running through it, again, again. Flames of lust were lapping at his skin, eating his flesh away, exposing his very soul. He put his hands on her thighs, pushing her legs higher, spreading her more. Gasping again when he surged slightly deeper. He pulled out almost completely, feeling her legs twitch against his grip to keep him in, but he held her tight, and slid out until only his glans was still inside her. He rubbed the swollen head of his shaft over the hyper-sensitive nerves at her entrance, again and again, moving his hips back and forth, and watched her explode.

She came so hard the breath was knocked out of her lungs for a moment, everything a haze all around her while her walls contracted and he hammered into her clenching sheath, making her orgasm swell even more until the blood rushed through her veins so loud she felt deafened by it. His thrusts were strong, hard, rapid, his hips jackhammering, his sounds of lust getting louder, louder, sheer abandon evident in every groan, every cry that fell from his lips, he didn't care, held nothing in, allowed the noise to swell into a scream while he thrust with all his strength, feeling her go straight into multiple orgasm beneath him, her soft insides milking his pounding length. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, shallow breaths escaping between them, his hands were gripping her thighs so tightly his knuckles were white, she would surely be bruised tomorrow, but she didn't care, every sense focused on her endless climaxing while he took her relentless, over and over.

She forced her eyes open, wanting to watch him come, needing to see him lose the last shreds of his control, and she saw it, saw his mouth falling open in a strangled scream, the muscles of his neck tensing before the contractions ran through his whole body, centering on his cock deep inside her, and she felt the mighty rod hardening, expanding even more, dilating her walls to the point of tearing before a firm jet of red-hot seed blasted out of him. She felt every wave when it splattered against her walls, fraying the tortured nerves even further, and she felt another climax ripping through her when he screamed her name, again, again, while he spent deep inside her, spilling his semen until he was utterly, completely empty.

Lisbon shivered with delight. He hadn't fantasized about another woman while he had taken her. He'd been with her. The whole time.

Jane saw stars and felt like passing out for a moment, his world blurring at the edges. His soul felt naked, bare. He knew she could read his feelings in his wild, desperate eyes, and he allowed her to see behind the façade tonight.

"Well," he panted, clutching at his chest with one hand as if he was short of a heart attack, " this was for sure the most boring evening I spent in years- must be the company."

Lisbon could hardly breathe, but she couldn't stop the soft chuckle that bubbled up inside her throat.

She pulled him closer and pressed a sweet kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, her soft lips nuzzling his ear, "I feel much better now."

"I hope so, woman," he groaned, "you nearly killed me!"

He wrapped both arms around her, holding her for a moment before he broke away and pulled his boxers and pants back up, closing the zipper, averting his gaze while he dressed, smiling softly when he noticed the buttons he had ripped off his shirt in his haste to get naked. He sighed and pushed the fabric into his waistband, effectively concealing the damage by covering it with his vest.

When he turned and looked at her she was dressed again.

Her beauty floored him. She almost looked like a being from a different world sometimes- a tiny elf possibly, given her size. Angelic. Ethereal.

He should retreat now. Try a fresh start tomorrow. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to think. Didn't want to make any promises.

"You know," he said softly, "I would LOVE a hot bath right now, I haven't had one in years. And don't you have this huge tub in your apartment? I'll invite you. You can get in with me. I have no interest in excluding you from your own bath tub, I'm not that big an ass. And in exchange for your generosity…"

He paused for a moment, swallowing dryly, looking down at the floor. He needed a moment to process the feelings, they were so strong, made him tremble. He WAS an idiot. But he couldn't help it. He felt utterly new to this whole business. And this wasn't flirting- this was the real deal, for god's sake.

"…and in exchange I could hold you through the night," he whispered, "make breakfast for you tomorrow and drive you to work. How does that sound, huh?"

She looked at him, her eyes glowing orbs in the gloominess of her office. He could see the moisture in them.

Her voice was hoarse when she spoke.

"Irresistible."

xxMentalistxx

"Bye, Jim!" Jane said cheerfully when he left the building at agent Lisbon's side, secretly holding her hand, waving to the watchman.

Jim had just completed his last round and waved back, smiling. He sighed softly. Whatever you could say about Patrick Jane…damn, the man was LOUD.

**The End**

_Okay, that was it…you're possibly bored by all those smutty PWPs I'm raining down on your heads, so if you want me to stop, please, tell me ASAP! Tell me if you want me to continue, too, because I'll be confused otherwise…I depend on your feedback, it always makes my day! Thank you so much!_


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